


our choices

by starlightloving



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightloving/pseuds/starlightloving
Summary: “You’re quiet, angel,” he muttered.  “Not in the normal way, but the bad way.  The trapped-in-your-own-head way.  I want to help you out-” the demon looked up again, trying to make eye contact, “but you’ve got to tell me how I can even begin.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 97





	our choices

**Author's Note:**

> This was a Christmas gift for my lovely angel Mia (@acastleintheair on tumblr) that I whipped together from her prompt. Enjoy!

Aziraphale had been quiet for the past few days. Not quiet in the way he could normally be, not just quiet admiration or quiet contemplation. He was reserved, hardly speaking at all, and every time he did speak, Crowley could tell that he was running on automatic. He was stuck in his head, not stewing over his most recent new read, but fixating on something that was causing him to spiral, spiral, spiral downwards.

Crowley always hated this silence. Aziraphale never wanted to tell him what was going on; he would simply give Crowley a fake smile, blink too many times to zone back into the present, and then eventually disappear back into his head. It was horrible, for Crowley and Aziraphale both.

“Hey, angel,” Crowley said softly as he walked around the back of Aziraphale’s armchair to squeeze onto the armrest. He leaned against Aziraphale’s shoulder a little and gently pulled the book from his hands.

“Ah.” There it was, the break in the clouds in the angel’s mind. “Crowley,” he breathed, voice quiet and rough from disuse. He had been sitting in the backroom of the bookshop all day, pretending to read but instead staring half-lidded into the space between his chair and the fire.  


“How has the book been?” Crowley questioned, giving Aziraphale the opportunity to bring up the topic of his silence first. However, just like Crowley had guessed he would, Aziraphale dodged the sentiment.  


“It’s been alright. Quite a think piece, really,” he said. And, there, now it was the fake smile, the deceptive hint of sunshine on Crowley’s face when it was a cloudy day outside.  


Crowley sighed internally, bending forward to place Aziraphale’s book on the coffee table. “Tell me the truth, angel.”  


That got Aziraphale’s attention. “What do you mean, dear boy? I am-”  


“Not about the bloody book,” Crowley huffed. He slid off of the chair and crouched down in front of it, his arms resting on Aziraphale’s lap. “About what’s going on up here.” His voice was soft as he tapped the side of his head. He searched Aziraphale’s eyes, hoping to find the answer in their blue depths, but there was nothing.  


Aziraphale smiled again, no more real than the last, as he said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  


Crowley sighed and closed his eyes, thudding his forehead against Aziraphale’s thighs. “You’re quiet, angel,” he muttered. “Not in the normal way, but the bad way. The trapped-in-your-own-head way. I want to help you out-” the demon looked up again, trying to make eye contact, “but you’ve got to tell me how I can even begin.”  


Aziraphale was silent again, but this time it was clear he was searching for his words. After a moment, he spoke, his eyes drifting down to the demon’s hands on his legs. “It’s you,” he whispered.  


“What?”  


A small, sad laugh escaped Aziraphale’s lips. “Crowley, I…” he paused again, swallowed, and blinked away the tears forming in his eyes, before soldiering on. “How can you stand yourself, after falling in love with me?”  


Aziraphale’s words were like a slap clear across Crowley’s face. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The problem wasn’t actually Crowley; it was that he loved Aziraphale. Crowley wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He thought they had finally moved past this stage of their relationship several months ago. Right after Armageddoff and the Swap. After they finally confessed how they both felt and came to the conclusion that they had missed out on so much together, why keep fighting it?  


Yet here Aziraphale was, sitting in the back of the bookshop and saying that Crowley’s love was the problem that kept him from going through his days.  


“… you fell in love with _me_ ,” Aziraphale was saying, his voice weak. Crowley shook himself back into focus and saw the tears just as they spilled onto Aziraphale’s cheeks. “Of all creatures, of all beings and humans, you fell in love with someone like me.” Aziraphale’s voice was strained and it broke Crowley’s heart. “How can you live with yourself?”  


Crowley shook his head vehemently. “No, angel, hey,” he said, putting his hands on Aziraphale’s cheeks and wiping at the tears with his thumbs. “Aziraphale, love, look at me.”  


Aziraphale stopped rambling and brought his tear-filled gaze to meet Crowley’s bright yellow eyes.  


“I have only Fallen once, let me get that clear first,” Crowley began. Confusion settled in the crease of Aziraphale’s forehead, but Crowley kept talking. “I Fell from Heaven, and I don’t regret that, because then I might not have met you.”  


“Then you wouldn’t have fallen in love with me-” Aziraphale tried, more tears welling in his eyes. Crowley just shook his head and continued.  


“Shh, I’m not done, angel.” Crowley’s lips tweaked up in a small smile. “I didn’t fall in love with you, Aziraphale. I _chose_ to love you.” A little confusion seeped out of Aziraphale, and his shoulders relaxed so minutely that most wouldn’t even notice it. “On purpose, Aziraphale. I didn’t fall in love with you, because I chose to love you _on purpose_.”  


More tension left the angel, but he was clearly still on edge. “It’s still _me_ ,” he whispered.  


Crowley huffed a brief laugh. “Of course, it’s still you, angel. That’s what I love. I chose to love you the moment you told me you gave the first humans your flaming sword, and I chose again in Mesopotamia when I saw the hesitation in your eyes about the Flood. I chose in Rome and at that first Shakespeare play and again in Paris when I saved you from a trip back Upstairs. Hell, I chose to love you again and again every time I saw you, even when you said we were fraternizing or that I went to fast for you.” Crowley picked up one of Aziraphale’s hands and pressed his lips to the angel’s knuckles. “I have always, and will always, _choose_ to love you, Aziraphale. No doubt about it.”  


Aziraphale sniffed and wiped his eyes with his free hand before cupping Crowley’s face. “My dear boy,” he said, voice soft and still a little rough from his crying. He huffed a little laugh. “I do suppose I chose to love you, as well; it simply took me longer to realize that I’d done so.”  


They both leaned forward, meeting in the middle for a gentle kiss.  


“We good again, angel, or do you need a little more reassurance?” Crowley asked, a taunt and a temptation wrapped up in one on his tongue.  


“I think I’m alright again,” Aziraphale said, squeezing the hand that Crowley still held, “but a little reassurance never hurt anyone, did it?”  


**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments appreciated :)
> 
> find me on tumblr at starlightloving


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